Die Trying
by mentalagent13
Summary: Jane goes to solve a case without telling Lisbon, as usual. Slightly AU in the idea that Red John is dead and Jane and Lisbon are together. T only for a smidge of language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I have some random obsession with writing them after Red John is gone and they are together. If you don't like the idea, don't read. Thanks in advance to everyone that reads and reviews!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters, much to my dismay.

**Die Trying**

He silently climbs out of bed, thankful that she is sleeping peacefully on her side facing away from him. Usually, after a day like today, she would cling to him in her sleep searching for his undeniable warmth. Her small frame fit nicely next to his, if not intertwined with his. It had actually become his favorite way to sleep since it rarely happened. He smiles and allows his thoughts to wander toward frightening territory as he changes into one of his three piece suits. He isn't sure he will ever get to experience that again. Before he can regret his decision he stops his train of thought and looks at her sleeping peacefully.

"I love you, Teresa," he whispers as he leans down to kiss her softly on the forehead. She smiles in her sleep and curls up tighter, burrowing into her pillow. She makes a soft noise of contentment as her breathing evens out. In that moment, all he wants to do is lay back down beside her and forget about his plan. He studies the version of Lisbon he has come to appreciate more and more over the past few years. That version is Teresa, his wife, the woman who only surfaces unwillingly during deep emotional moments. Every other time he gets to see her is on Lisbon's terms. It has become a game of his to try to get Teresa to surface more, especially around their two year old twins.

He takes one last long glance at the sleeping woman before he turns his attention down the hall. The room to his left is painted a light purple because Lisbon had not liked the idea of pink. He had agreed mostly because his first daughter's room was pink. He opens the door and is greeted with the steady breathing of a sleeping child. Ashlyn is spelled white capital ceramic letters above the girl's bed. The letters are well out of the way of curious fingers. Cautiously, he walks into the room and murmurs his love into her hair as he places a kiss to the top of her head. He leaves and closes the door once again.

Across the hall, he opens the door to a room that can only be described as ocean blue. It is set up much the same way as its counterpart a few steps away; the only difference being the color and the name above the bed. Christopher is spelled out in the same ceramic letters. He enters this room just as silently. The boy looks up at him sleepily, but doesn't say anything. He chooses to only kiss the top of the boy's head and give him a reassuring pat; the boy smiles at him and returns to dreamland. A moment later he is out the front door and heading down the road not once looking back.

"Cho," Jane says acknowledging the only other man in the deserted parking lot.

"You sure about this Jane?" Cho asks him seriously.

"There is a six year old girl that may die tonight if I don't go. Yes Cho I am sure," Jane says as he puts a hand on his car. Cho nods and holds out a Kevlar vest for him. Jane shakes his head a vest would be a dead give-away if he is frisked. He has to at least try to stay alive. The men they are going after are ruthless and have killed countless police officers before. Jane is going in because he is _not_ a police officer. Silently, he reminds himself he has something to live for as he drives out of the parking lot.

Jane pulls up in front of a dark abandoned warehouse. He chuckles inwardly at the sheer idiocy of the hideout. Everyone uses an abandoned warehouse because of the space and the way sound echoes. The main drawbacks of using an abandoned warehouse as a hiding place? Everyone uses them, they have a lot of space, and sound echoes. He takes a deep breath preparing to walk in without any outside communication. He has refused weapons, wires, and earwigs. The men he is up against are good at what they do; they won't be fooled by anything. Cho and the SWAT team are setting up a block away. He enters the warehouse and walks into the first room. It looks to be the full four stories high and at least a football field in length. Stray boxes can be seen scattered across the floor. There is even an old trailer portion of a tractor trailer.

"You! STOP!" a man's voice calls out from somewhere to his left. Three men come at him from different angles all brandishing shot guns. One of them is double barreled. Slowly, he raises his hands in the common gesture of surrender. One man puts his weapon down long enough to frisk Jane. Once deemed harmless, the three men lower the shot guns, but the one facing him pulls out a pistol. At least the shot guns are put away.

"What do you want?" the man with the pistol asks.

"The girl," Jane answers.

"Which one?" the man on his left sneers. Jane's heart almost stops. There is more than one child here. He can't bring himself to save just one. No, he has to save them all or die trying. He knows what it is like to lose a child and he swears he will not make anyone else feel that pain as long as he can do something about it. He offers a silent apology to his current wife for what he is about to do.

"All of them," he tells the man.

The man laughs. "You don't have enough money for all of them," he says and pokes Jane in the chest with his pistol to emphasize his point. The men circle him and stand directly in front of him in a line. His mind goes into overdrive and a smile crosses his features. He knows a way to get out of this. Cautiously, he pulls a few $100 bills out of his pocket and shows them to the men.

"You will take me to the girls," Jane says and points to the man in the center. "You will let him," he tells the man on the right. "And you will be following behind me making sure I don't try to escape," Jane finishes as he looks to the last man. The three men take a few minutes to discuss their options before doing exactly what Jane predicted. He smiles at how easy it is to manipulate people.

The first man opens the door to an unmarked crate and Jane is greeted with a sight that could haunt him for years if he can't save these girls. They are dirty. All of them flinch when the door is opened. It is barely big enough for the girls to sit comfortably on the floor. 10 girls crowd the small space all dressed in clothes too nice for the place they are in. Every one of them reminds him of the daughter her couldn't keep safe. He makes a split second decision and gives Cho the agreed upon signal. Jane simply scratches his head.

An instant later gunfire assaults his ears. He runs into the crate and shuts the door, but not before he feels a searing pain in his left arm. His hand immediately comes up to cover the wound. His fingers feel slick with his own blood and he winces in pain. He tries to apply more pressure to the wound, and discovers that it s an opening in his skin not a hole. Thankfully, he had only been grazed.

The firefight ends shortly and an eerie silence fills the warehouse. The girls are sobbing and he attempts to comfort them all in some small way. He can't give them each the individual attention they deserve at the moment though. He is too busy paying attention to the blood on his hand. Cho's voice fills the warehouse. "JANE?" can be heard echoing through the room.

"In here!" Jane calls from inside the crate. Cho opens the door and sees all the hysterical girls, none older than 10, crammed in the crate. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of blood.

"What happened man?" Cho asks, indicating Jane's blood stained suit.

"Got shot, but I think it's only a graze," Jane says as he climbs out of the crate. Cho waves the paramedics over to the crate and one of them bandages Jane's arm. He nods his head in thanks and puts his coat back on. His suit has blood stains down the left side, but he doesn't care. He stays long enough to give his statement, and then he leaves. There is nothing else for him to do until tomorrow morning. The whole ordeal has taken an hour and a half. He looks at his clock, 2am. He still has time to catch some sleep once he gets home.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I hope you like the second chapter as much as I liked writing it! Thank you for reading and reviewing! It really makes my day.

**Disclaimer: ** I seriously don't own it, never will. Oh well.

She's awake when he gets home. The living room is dark, but he can feel her presence. He never has to guess if she is in the room. There is something about her that his body responds to when she is in the room. Usually, he is thankful for her presence, right now though he wishes she was asleep. He stays facing the door for a few moments, trying to figure out what to tell her. The soft glow of a lamp illuminating the room forces him to turn around and look at her, to acknowledge her.

She is sitting on one end of the couch her legs tucked close underneath her. She is holding his cell phone in her hand a silent reminder of how she couldn't contact him. He finally looks her in the eye and he can tell she is beyond angry; she is livid. Yet, none of this surprises him. What surprises him is her attire. The only thing she is currently wearing is his button down shirt from yesterday. He distinctly remembers her going to bed in much more than that. In fact he remembers putting the shirt in the laundry.

He watches her as she studies him. Her eyes zero in on the blood that mars his pristine suit. Her eyes widen in horror and before he can even try to reassure her, she is standing in front of him. She has made quick work of relieving him of his coat and vest, her nimble fingers half way through the buttons on his shirt. He decides that it is in his best interest just to let her go, so he doesn't fight her. He doesn't help her either. His shirt soon joins the pile of bloody clothing on the floor.

He is left standing in front of her in his undershirt as she scans his body for injuries. His bandage peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his undershirt almost taunting him. She cautiously reaches her hand out and lightly touches the bandages before retracting quickly as if burned. He sees the worry etched in her features seconds before anger lights up her eyes.

"Go change," she says and turns her back to him so she can return to her perch on the couch.

"Teresa," he says, almost begs. He only wants to sleep. They can talk tomorrow in his opinion.

"Go change now Patrick." She wants to talk _now_. He gets half way across the room when her voice brings him back. "Get rid of those too," she commands. Her finger is extended out toward the pile of clothing at the entranceway. He doesn't comment on the slight shake of her hand. He can't really blame her. He wouldn't want to stare at a pile of her bloody clothing if he didn't have to.

He re-enters the room a few minutes later, once again in pajamas. He barely makes it into the room before she gets up again, this time to confront him. Her face is inches from his, and he resists the urge to kiss her. Now is not the time. Her anger is boiling just beneath the surface barely leashed. He knows why she is keeping it leashed, thankful she has the self control to not wake up the twins.

"Where the hell were you Patrick? Explain. Now," she says. It is a command, not a request. It is a command from his wife. He can deny Lisbon so many things, but he can't deny his wife anything. For some reason it makes sense to him even if the rest of the world is confused. She understands and that is all that really matters.

"I solved the case Teresa. The girl is safe," he says afraid to touch her.

"You solved the case and didn't tell me?" Lisbon sputters. He watches the disbelief cross her features. Lisbon is staring back at him in full cop mode. He really could have waited until morning at the office to hear this speech.

"I am the boss Jane. _The_ boss. I have to approve everything. Hell, I approve if you are allowed to breathe or not. You _do not_ make any calls in that office, or on that team. _I_ decide what happens and when it happens. All information goes through _me_ for a reason Jane. It goes through me because it is my _job_. What if something had happened? What if someone had died? You got hurt and that is enough paperwork. I can't have you screwing everything up Jane," she says in her "cop voice" as he fondly calls it.

It still fascinates him with how quickly she can change from Lisbon to Teresa. He watches as the anger dissipates into hurt, confusion, and worry. Her hand unconsciously twitches as she controls the urge to touch his bandage again. He realizes how serious his situation is at that moment. He can handle anything Lisbon throws at him, no matter how harsh. It is Teresa that he is afraid of; that he can't lose.

"Why do you always leave me in the dark Patrick? The not knowing is what kills me, but more importantly do you know what you could have done Patrick? You could have gotten me fired if anything happened. I have the health insurance Patrick. We _need_ health insurance for the twins, for you. I had no idea where you were and now you come home bloody and bandaged. What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?" She asks him. He hears her fighting to keep her voice steady.

"I didn't want to worry you," he says lamely. They both know that is not the truth, it is only a reason. She goes back to her original position and he is thankful to be able to sit on the recliner. He puts his head in his hands for a few seconds before he leans back. He is staring at the ceiling trying to find the correct words.

"I didn't know what to expect completely. I couldn't take the chance of both you and me getting hurt or killed. Who would take care of the kids? They need at least one parent," he says and waves his hand toward the stairs.

"That is not your choice to make Jane," Lisbon says sternly.

Teresa poses the next question, "Why risk yourself then?"

"Those girls needed me. There were ten of them locked in a crate and…," his explanation is cut short by a small hand, palm out, directed toward him. He can see her shaking. Lisbon is processing the information he has just supplied. She is angry that she missed the details, angry it took so long to find the girls, angry that he took this on himself instead of involving her.

When she finally looks up his wife is glaring at him. He puts his head in his hands again. He is tired. He knows what her next argument is going to be. He knows his doesn't hold a candle to her argument. He has always known; he just couldn't let those girls die.

"_They_ need you Patrick," she says and looks to the stairs, "and so do I." The last part is said so quietly that he almost doesn't catch it. They have built their lives on a relationship that communicates through body language and touch. It is rare that they actually admit how much they mean to each other. A simple look or touch is all that is needed.

"What if you had died Patrick?" she whispers as she climbs into his lap. He leans back to give her more room and she gratefully takes it. She situates herself so that her head rests in the space between his neck and collar bone. He can feel her every breath tickling his neck. Her legs hang off the armrest of the chair as she attempts to get closer to him. She puts most of her weight against his uninjured right side and he wraps his arm around her shoulders. The hand from his injured arm rests against the top of her thighs. He takes a few deep breaths and uses her as the calming device that she naturally is.

"You would have been taken care of, as well as the kids," he says. He knows it isn't what she wants to hear. It is simply something to say to try and ease her fears. She relaxes slightly as his hand rubs up and down her arm in a soothing manner.

"Don't do this again Patrick," she whispers against his neck. She is drifting off to sleep faster than he expected her to. He feels her place a light kiss on the side of his neck. He doesn't respond to her statement. He just places a kiss to the top of her head. He knows this conversation isn't over. He still has to deal with Lisbon tomorrow and he knows that Teresa is still looking for answers. The thing is she needs rest, and he is the only place she can find it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This is the last Chapter! I hope you like it!

**Disclaimer:** Nope still not getting money for it.

Lisbon chooses not to talk to him for the entire morning. The case report hit her desk at 8am sharp and all the details had been in it. He positions himself to watch her reaction. He watches fascinated as Lisbon fights to remain in control. Lisbon wants to scream and yell and hit him. Teresa wants to hug him and never let go.

She keeps her visits to the bullpen short. She only talks to Rigsby or Van Pelt because they were not directly involved in the plan. None of the team was supposed to be involved, but Cho had figured out what he was doing and insisted to help. Rigsby and Van Pelt were meant to be left out because of their upcoming wedding. He wasn't willing to risk their lives for one of his plans, not when happiness was so close for them.

By mid-afternoon Lisbon has still not acknowledged him, or Cho. She enters the bull pen for the fifth time that day (no he isn't counting) and beckons to Cho. The agent dutifully follows her into her office. He watches the conversation unable to interpret Cho's reactions. Lisbon continues to fight to keep control as she reprimands her agent. Cho nods a few times and leaves her office looking the same as when he went in.

"Hightower wants to talk to you," Cho tells him once he is back at his desk. Jane looks at him with confusion until he points at Lisbon. She is standing outside her office door glaring at him. She obviously still didn't want to talk to him. This meeting was going to be interesting.

They walk into Hightower's office with 5 steps between them. To most people the space would mean nothing, but to them it is like a canyon. Even before they were together they had always been within reach of each other. He doesn't grab the door and open it for her and she doesn't hold it for him. It's all very childish and yet very fitting. She sits in the chair opposite Hightower's desk. He chooses to sit on the couch against the wall.

"Your team did good Lisbon even if their methods were unorthodox," Hightower congratulates her.

"Thank you ma'am," Lisbon responds.

"However, you will still be placed on 1 week of desk duty. No field work. You still haven't learned to control him Lisbon," Hightower explains.

"I understand Ma'am," Lisbon says and leaves when Hightower inclines her head toward the door. Jane glares at Hightower.

"I'm not sorry Patrick. You know the rules. You know that you can't protect her. You agreed to it when you came to me three years ago. Your relationship here was not to change. You need to let her do her job Patrick," Hightower tells him.

He stands up knowing he can't win this fight. He had started to obey a few rules three years ago. He did it all for her and those two beautiful children. Hightower had forced him to agree to some rules while he bargained for more freedom with his hours. He glanced at the clock, 4pm.

"I have to go," he says. He gets up and walks to the door.

"Remember what I said Patrick. Let her do her job," Hightower reminds him. He simply waves in recognition and walks out the door. He has more important things to do. He needs to pick up his kids from the Daycare center.

He lies on the couch waiting for her to come back down the stairs after putting the kids to bed. She walks without making a sound. If he wasn't so tuned to her he wouldn't have even noticed her presence, but he is and she can never hide from him. He sits up to look at her and she stops when they make eye contact. She doesn't shy away from it, in fact she holds his gaze for longer than she usually does.

She points a finger at him and flicks her wrist up before she continues her decent down the steps. He knows what she expects from him. He takes his coat and vest off, and lays them neatly across the back of the couch. His shirt comes next, and he stops to sit and wait for judgment. She quirks an eyebrow at him and he sighs as he takes the undershirt off. She stands on front of him as her nimble fingers carefully take the bandage off his arm. He unconsciously flinches at her touch when her fingers graze the wound. She hits it in retaliation, masking the hurt in her eyes.

"Ouch!" he yells and can't help but look at her in anger. His right hand comes up to cover the injury from her. He hates it when she has to take care of him. They stare at each other for longer than he thought possible. She is not going to give in; he can see it in her eyes. For once in his life he backs down and allows her to win. He removes his hand and she continues her assessment of his injury.

"You deserved that you know," she tells him softly, "you deserved it because you didn't tell me you were going to do something stupid." He chuckles and flinches again when she puts new gauze over the wound.

"Stop moving or I swear I will hit you again," she tells him seriously. She has threatened him many times, but this one he believes. He stays absolutely still as she finishes. Once done, she looks at it and he can see her silently congratulate herself on a job well done.

"Here," she says and his face meets a pillow. He looks at her strangely for a few seconds before he understands. She smirks slightly and walks up the stairs. He knows he deserves this somewhere in the back of his mind, yet he can't help but feel a little angry with her. After all, he could have died yesterday.

A few sleepless hours later he hears her moving upstairs. He knows her footfalls when the house is this silent. He watches the stairs and sure enough her shadow appears at the top. He can make out her tired form as it descends the steps at this early hour in the morning. He watches as she stops mid-way her face riddled with her own indecision. He can tell she wants to punish him, but she also wants him close. She shifts her weight back and forth and he can't help the smile that crosses his features.

She looks up at him and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Get your ass up here," she says defeated. He practically leaps off the couch to join her on the stairs. He stops a step below her so they can study each other on the same level. He is still slightly taller than she is, but he it is much less prominent now.

"I'm sorry Teresa," he whispers softly. She releases the breath that she has been holding. He knows she's been waiting for him to say that all day. He promised her he wouldn't take her for granted, so he doesn't say things he doesn't mean. She usually has to wait longer for him to apologize or reciprocate feelings, but he knows it means more to her when he does. He leans forward just enough to let his forehead rest against hers. He doesn't apply much pressure allowing her the chance to move away.

"I'm sorry Teresa," he repeats softer than before. The silence circles around them while she makes up her mind. She doesn't move away, but neither does she speak. They study each other for what feels like the thousandth time in the past 24 hours. He is tense awaiting her judgment.

He can see in her eyes the moment she makes up her mind. He doesn't move not wanting her to know that he knows. She takes another deep breath. Her eyes continue to betray her decision, yet she holds back fighting a losing internal battle. Finally, she places a tender kiss to his lips.

"You have a long way back Patrick," she warns as she backs away.

"I know," he admits.

"C'mon," she says and grabs his hand to lead him up the stairs. He doesn't fight content to let her lead. He shuts the door to their room as she climbs into bed. He smiles as he walks around it to his side. He lies on his back looking up at the ceiling waiting for her to drift off to sleep. He never falls asleep before she does, her steady breathing his usual lullaby.

"I love you Patrick," she says as she turns to face him, "remember that next time."

"I love you too," he tells her as she settles against him. Her arm reaches across his body so her hand can cover the bandage on his arm. He shifts to lie on his side, but she growls and tightens her grip on his injured arm. He winces and he can feel her smile against his shoulder. He won't fight her tonight and she knows it. It's a small price to pay to get back on her good side though. He listens to her steady breathing and his eyes begin to close. He smiles a little as he realizes Teresa has forgiven him. He can deal with Lisbon tomorrow.


End file.
